Page 90 of Handle Me

“Most people start with something a little less...”

“Expensive?” she guessed.

“For starters,” I said with a laugh, “but it suits you. You weren’t meant to drive something ordinary, boss.”

Her teeth sank into her lower lip, her eyebrows furrowing. Was it the compliment or the nickname?

“Sorry,” I said with a deep sigh as I turned down the street that led to the track. “I didn’t mean to sound so flirty.”

“It’s just your default setting,” she teased, lifting one shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. I’m immune to your charm now.”

“Good,” I said, even as a pit opened inside my stomach.

“Good,” she echoed absently.

We might be friends now, but it was clear small talk was a problem for us. I pulled into the track’s car park and stopped.

“I thought we were going on the track,” she said, looking around at the empty lot.

“You have to walk before you can run. We’ll start here.”

I opened the door and stepped out, trying to clear my head. I needed the fresh air. I needed to get her scent out of my brain. What the fuck was I thinking when I said yes to this? I couldn’t do this. How was I supposed to act like we were just two friends hanging out? She had to feel the same tension I did. It wasn’t just coming from me. She was giving off the same signals.

And now I’d volunteered to sit in the same car with her for hours—potentially days—and act like I didn’t want to fold her over the hood of her new car and have my way with her. She watched me from inside the car, so I forced a smile and gestured for her to get out. She obeyed, following me to the bonnet, her hips swaying and her curves accentuated by the tight jeans she wore.

“Let’s get started,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant. “First lesson: keep it simple. I want you to get used to the feel of the car.”

I led her over to the driver’s side and circled to the passenger side while she adjusted the seat to her body. As soon as I got in the car, she looked at me nervously, excitement and trepidation warring in her eyes.

“Check your mirrors,” I said in a strained voice. God, she looked good behind the wheel.

“All set?” I asked.

She nodded, her fingers clutching the wheel.

“Good. Now, put your foot on the brake pedal and hit the ignition.”

The car roared to life. She bit her lip, and I nearly groaned.

“Put it in drive, and take it nice and easy,” I said, my voice gruff. She followed my instructions, glancing over at me with a goofy grin once she had the car in drive.

She took a shaky breath and did as she was told. A second later, the car jolted forward a hundred meters before we slammed to a stop.

“Easy, boss,” I coaxed her, but she was already shaking her head.

“This was a stupid idea,” she muttered. “I can’t do this. What was I thinking?”

“Hey.” I reached over and tilted her head to face me. “Lola Bishop can do anything. I’ve seen it for myself. This is just a stupid car. You’ve handled much worse.”

She managed a half smile. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Like me,” I reminded her. “A car’s a lot easier to handle than I am.”

For a moment, neither of us looked away. Her eyes softened, her mouth parting slightly. Without thinking, I leaned closer, close enough that I felt the heat of her breath on my face. Fuck, I wanted to kiss her. I was going to kiss her.

I forced myself back into my own seat and took a deep breath. “Let’s try this again.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX